Fate Historia
by BlackRoseOpal
Summary: AU: The 3rd Holy Grail War and the corruption of the Greater Grail resulted in the tales of heroic spirits being rewritten, history unraveled and sewn back together in an era where noble kings that were once thousands of years apart now rule on the same earth, conquerors fight for land for their own empires, and unlikely alliances are formed for the good of one's kingdom.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** _The story picks up during the first fight between Lancer and Saber._

* * *

_Near the Fuyuki River..._

The ground pulsed with the life of the lightning that danced across the behemoth of a chariot that had rode into the middle of the battle. Arturia could only assume that this was Rider, another Servant in the War.

"I am Iskander!" cried the man from atop the chariot. "The King of Conquerors! In this battle, I am the Rider Class of Servants!"

Arturia blinked.

Well, she was right.

Glancing towards her previous foe, she could see Lancer with a look that read either disbelief or abhorrence.

Perhaps both.

As Iskander went on about himself and some proposition to join forces in order to obtain the Holy Grail together, Arturia couldn't help but find herself recognizing the man's demeanor. His profile, silhouetted by the fluorescent street lamps, did nothing to blight out the fiery read hair that covered most of his head and face. His appearance was so dynamic that it seemed impossible to forget him. And yet, Arturia could only remember so much about her past life.

Lancer was the first to address Iskander.

"As tempting as your offer may be, I'm afraid I must decline. I may give the Grail to but one man. My new avowed lord Master, and not the likes of you."

Arturia could practically hear Iskander frown. She chimed in, "Tell me, Rider. Did you come here to rudely interfere with our battle, merely to proffer that absurd and foolish plan of yours?" Her one good grip, while the other remained wounded from Lancer's cursed spear, tightened around Excalibur. "This is a grave offense against my honor!"

Iskander reached up and scratched his beard, humming briefly.

"I'd be willing to discuss compensation-"

"Enough!" both Lander and Arturia snapped.

"I am the rightful King of Britain, and...and..."

Just as forceful as she began, Arturia felt her words dry up in her throat as her memory dropped into oblivion. It was as if someone had reached into her life and cut out a piece in time with a jagged knife. Memories trickled down from the crystal clear image of Excalibur upon its stone, to the painful altercations with Lancelot and Guinevere. What had they been in dispute about again? The fights grew dimmer and fuzzier as Arturia strained to recall them. She had completely lost track of what had been going on in the present.

"Arthur!"

She jolted back to reality at the sound of her name, a name she had not uttered to anyone but her Master. A wide grin crossed Iskander's face.

"I thought as much," he said with a chuckle. "This is quite a surprise! I would hardly be expected to encounter the King of Knights as yourself. You did a better work of concealing your feminine identity when we first encountered, _little girl_."

Anger boiled in Arturia's gut, partly for Iskander's mockery of her, but mostly that she indeed knew him, as confirmed by the man himself, and yet she could still not conjure up any memory of him.

"Would you like to taste this little girl's blade, King of Conquerors?" she said through her teeth. "Or would you do better to hold your foul tongue?"

Iskander merely scoffed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" sad a tiny voice that came from behind Iskander. Arturia leaned to the right to see a boy cowering behind Rider, presumably his master. There then came a string of altercations between the boy and Lancer's master who had been hiding in the shadows. Something about Rider being Kayneth's rightful servant. Arturia paid no heed to it, as a different dispute went on in her mind. She thought so hard for a clue, a hint, something.

"Those too craven and cowardly to show themselves here tonight will draw the viscous scorn of Iskander, King of Conquerors."

Just then, distant chuckle, detached from anyone present, echoed about the shipping containers that surrounded the battlefield. The boy in the chariot, Waver his name was, was the first to speak up.

"Oh no! That's him!" he said, his voice trembling. Then Arturia saw him, perched atop a light post. He practically radiated from the flawless golden armor that adorned him from head to toe.

_How vain_, Arturia thought.

"The Servant that defeated Assassin?!" said Kayneth, still concealed from sight.

"So," the new man spoke lowly, yet his voice carried far to reach Arturia's ears, "two lesser beings dare to name themselves kings even in my royal presence?"

Iskander turned, the chariot creaking under his weight, and faced the new adversary.

"I fail to see where the problem lies, Servant. For I am Iskander, the legendary King of the Conquerors." Arturia was about ready to cut out Rider's tongue if he even evaded to being the King of Conquerors one more time. "Or perhaps you were referring to the little princess to dares so valiantly to compete with our power?"

"What nonsense!" said the king atop the post. "Of course I am referring to the both of you. Although her offenses are entirely separated from yours."

His voice left a strange taste in Arturia's mouth. She also knew that voice, arrogant and powerful, full of himself, full of authority. But once again, her memory fell short of his identity.

"If you are that who insists your claim," said Iskander. "Then why not name yourself? No true king should be troubled by something as simple as giving his name to those he wishes to challenge."

"You would question me, you filthy mongrel? Me, the one true king?"

Arturia's head began to ache. She was confused and angry and she wanted a straight answer, not a pissing contest between two hotheaded men.

"If you cannot now discern my identity in the presence of my magnificent glory, then your ignorant blindness will serve to seal you demise." His stance shifted as he turned to face Arturia from above. "And you, little lioness, should have my name branded upon your lips still."

"What?!" Arturia snapped; her grip tightened around her blade. "How dare you speak to me in that manner. I'll cut out your tongue for saying such things to me!"

The man raised a bright eyebrow.

"That's the very same fire I recall taming in our bedchambers." He chuckled again. "Come now, Arturia..." Her breath caught in her throat. "...don't play the fool with me."

"Who are you!?" Arturia screamed, the wind around her blade picked up in a cyclone that tossed about her hair and clothes. A struggled groan escaped her throat as she turned to Irisviel, the woman posing as her Master.

"Who am- I?" she cried to her. Irisviel clutched at her chest with perplexed eyes.

"Saber..." Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

"You mean to tell me," the proud king spoke up once more, "that you have no recollection of your own king and savior?"

"You are not my king!" Arturia snapped.

"But of course I am..." A wide grin spread across his lips. "...my queen."


	2. Chapter 1: The Mad Dog and Golden King

_Fuyuki, Japan_

The shipping containment yard had fell under Archer's gaze as he opened up what looked to be a dozen golden portals from which blades of every variety came forth to hover behind his head, as they were waiting for him. All he saw stared up at him, some with jaws dropped in disbelief, others with brows furrowed in confusion.

And then there was Saber, who clenched her sword in a mix of both anger and confusion that burned violently behind her emerald eyes. Gilgamesh maintained his composure, but inside, he willed Saber to do something- anything other than look up at him as if he were the most despicable enemy. Did she really not remember?

He was about to break the frustrating silence when, seemingly out of nowhere, a swirling cloud of a violent black and deep blue surfaced from the ground like an infuriated twister, and a roar, loud enough to cause the metal containers around to shiver, tore through the night air. Gilgamesh realized that it was not the containers that quivered and creaked, but the very armor of the newest Servant that appeared before them.

"Berserker?!" cried Saber, and instinctively, she raised her sword towards him. The black knight was shrouded in a dark cloud of insanity. There came only a red glow beneath his helmet that indicated that there _might_ be something sentient underneath that unsettling armor.

"So, King of Conquerers," Lancer said rather curtly, almost mocking Rider. "Are you planning to ask him to join in your_ conquest_ as well?"

Rider scratched his beard while observing their new guest. He was shockingly casual.

"Perhaps not," he mused. "He does not seem terribly interested in civilized negotiations of any kind, does he?" He leaned back into the chariot and addressed his Master, a scrawny young boy from what Gilgamesh could observe. "Hey there, boy. How powerful a Servant is this monster, huh?"

The boy, who couldn't be much older than eighteen or nineteen, timidly peered out from behind Rider and squinted at Berserker, then rubbed his eyes with a groan.

"I don't know...I can't really tell..."

"What do you mean boy?" Rider protested angrily. "Are you not a Master chosen by the Holy Grail?" He crossed his arms, and then proceeded to lecture the boy on him supposed ability to detect the strengths and weaknesses of a Servant.

The albino woman, probably the Einzbern woman from what Gilgamesh had gathered from his own Master's information, stood behind Saber and whispered something cautiously to her. Saber responded with a low murmur, but her eyes darted around to each of the Servants, ending at Gilgamesh. Her eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, before hurriedly glancing away.

Berserker then gave another vicious roar and glanced- at least it seemed as if he glanced- towards Saber, and hunched his shoulders, as if preparing to strike.

"Who gave you permission to look upon my greatest treasure, you mad dog?" Gilgamesh spat out, anger boiling at the pit of his stomach. "May your death provide me some modicum of entertainment...mongrel!"

Two of the weapons that waited behind him shot forth towards Berserker. There was an explosion, and a cloud of earth flew into the air, blocking the Servant from sight.

"Good God!" Lancer cried out. "Is that truly Berserker?!"

"For a madman completely devoid of a soul of conscience," Rider added, "...huh, he is rather nimble."

Gilgamesh had seen it. He had seen it all. The mad dog had snatched one of his beloved swords right out of the air, pivoted on one foot, and then sliced the other flying blade straight from the air in a single movement, faster than any of the human eyes could have observed.

"How dare you lay your filthy hands on my precious treasures," said Gilgamesh. "You must long for a painful death, you cur!"

As if summoned them through his threats, more and more portals of light appeared behind him, with more blades awaiting his silent command.

"Alright, now mongrel," he said through his gritted teeth. "Let us all see how long your parlor tricks can keep you alive now."

As if propelled by the force of a firearm, the blades shot forward towards the black knight, bombarding him. No one but the Servants were able to keep up with his swift movements, ducking and dodging, grabbing blades out of the air for his own, as if he knew how to handle each one with ease. He knocked the weapons from his path, diverting them into the shipping containers, which then lit up in an abrupt explosion.

Then, all was still for the blink of an eye, when, emerging from the cloud of dust and smoke, two exotic weapons spun from the darkness and cut through the light post on which Gilgamesh perched. He leaped in to the air as his pedestal crumbled beneath him, and landed on the ground with a clank of his golden armor. They were now on even ground, and Gilgamesh shook with anger.

"Fool," he hissed, trembling. "You dare to look upon my queen and then have me, who belongs among the heavens, trod upon the ground?!" He shot his red hot gaze towards Berserker. "Your impudence has sealed your death, mad dog. When I am through with you, nothing will remain of your corpse!"

Anger burned in him, a feeling that had taken only until now to reawaken after being locked among the Heroic Spirits of the past. His greatest treasure looked upon him like he was the vilest creature, yet, this brazen dog dared to get in his way of reclaiming what was his. Determination surged through his veins as he prepared to open the Gates of Babylon even further to wipe the blackened knight from existence. Not a scrap of armor would be left in his place, not a wisp of smoke, not-

"By the power of my Command Seal..." Gilgamesh halted, yet his rage was still visible; the voice of Tokiomi Tohsaka echoed in the back of his head. "King of Heroes, quell your anger and withdraw."

Hist master had given him command, and he cried out in fury.

"You dare to order a king to withdraw?!" he spat in rage, unseen to his Master. "To leave the fight undone?! To abandon what is rightfully mine to face this mad dog alone?" He could not disobey, no matter how much his limbs protested. "You are fortunate, mongrel. And you all-" He addressed the other Servants. "By our next meeting, see you cull your numbers! Only a true hero is worthy to look upon my glorious presence." He then narrowed his gaze to Saber. "And she," he continued, "is the only one worthy among you curs." A regretful smile flashed across his face for a split second. "Until next time, my lioness. I am sorry."

And without another word, he disappeared into a cloud of gold dust. Shortly after, when he reappeared outside the Tohsaka mansion, his rage boiled over and he smashed his fist into the tidy stone wall, causing a dozen cracks to spider away. His anger, desire, and longing all took over at once in that second. He was impressed he had managed to hold it in that entire time. One short, struggled breath escaped his lips as he choked out one word, that one important word.

"Arturia..."

* * *

_Long ago, in the Kingdom of Uruk_

The thought that it might be winter in other parts of Gilgamesh' world baffled him while he soaked in the large hot bath, which was heated by crackling flames below the floor. He thought of winter, not because he particularly liked the season, but because he wished not to think of spring and what it would bring. The green would sprout forth and cover the land in the color that reminded Gilgamesh of his once dear friend, now long gone into the earth, crumbled into clay by the will of the gods. It was at that precise moment, when Enkidu's once strong grip hardened into earth and then deteriorated in Gilgamesh's desperate hands, that he had realized how much he feared death. He fears the reality that even his powerful equal and greatest friend was ultimately no match for the might of mortality.

"You shouldn't fear spring so much."

Gilgamesh lazily opened one eye to see the familiar form of Enkidu, fully clad in his white robes. Enkidu sat across from him, his green hair fanned out in the water like grass from the rivers. Gilgamesh would have gone into a fit of fear and rage a few months ago at this sight, but this image had been returning to his memories for a while now. The image and conscience of his dearest friend now haunted him every day.

"You should not even be around," Gilgamesh added dully. "You're not even really there."

"And yet, here I am, right where you want me to be."

"I buried you, Enkidu. The only thing I want is for you to rest in peace."

"And I certainly am." Enkidu casually swirled his fingertips through the hot water. "My body is resting quite nicely, all crumbled up into clay and dust. I'm sure my spirit is somewhere as well. But me? I am what you want. To be here, to carry on as I always did in life and stick my nose where it never belonged," he said, a slight smirk on his face

Gilgamesh frowned at the image of his past friend.

"My soul must not know what is good for me if it desires to torment my eyes with illusions of a dead man whom I put to rest long ago."

"My King?"

In the beginning of the king's hallucinations, typically Enkidu would disappear when someone else entered the room or spoke up. But now, he remained forever in Gilgamesh's sights, leaving only when "he pleased." Gilgamesh was pulled from his thoughts by the delicate voice of the messenger who appeared under the large arched doorway into the humid room. The guards promptly searched her for any sort of weapon, despite her wearing a simple thin dress and sandals, an ordeal Gilgamesh found quite tiresome and unnecessary. He did not immediately respond to the girl's call.

"Sire?"

"Well?" Gilgamesh lulled his head to the side to see her. Apparently, she had been sent to report something to him.

"You may enter," he said, and she obeyed, stopping exactly ten steps away before sliding to the floor in a humble bow.

"Well, what do you have for me?"

The girl swallowed and rose up onto her knees. Enkidu laughed,

"She's a pretty one isn't she?"

"I bring few reports from other nations my King, and a message from another," said the girl. She was a young one, perhaps seventeen. The locks of dark hair that were not tied up in an intricate maze of braids on top of her head fell to her waist. Her skin was dark; she clearly spent a lot of time in the sun. But she was still very beautiful.

Gilgamesh pressed his lips together as he raked his gaze up and down the girl's lithe body. She was a work of the gods, surely.

"And?"

"You wished to learn about the western kingdoms, if I was informed correctly."

"You were." Gilgamesh was beginning to get annoyed; the fact that a beautiful girl was standing in front of him with her clothes on frustrated him.

"It would seem that ever since the Romans abandoned Britannia, Williame the Bastard has taken the opportunity to try and take those lands for himself."

"Williame of Normandy?"

"Yes, my King."

"Was he not just dealing with the peasant uprisings in his own lands?"

"Those were recently quelled, although he did lose a lot of his land to the rebels."

"How did that happen?"

"He ultimately had the leader burned at the steak for witchcraft and blasphemy."

"Was it not a woman who lead the rebellions?"

"Yes, my King. Jeanne d'Arc. The... 'Holy Virgin' they called her."

"Well that's actually quite impressive," said Enkidu, and the tone of his voice matched his words; he actually did sound somewhat impressed. He was now floating lazily around the pool on his back. "I bet you've never been with a warrior woman, have you, Gil?"

Gilgamesh laughed briefly, partly at Enkidu, and partly at the news.

"Surely she knew better than to get involved with the affairs of men." He glanced askance at the pitcher of wine that sat close to his fingertips. "It would take a special woman indeed to even come close to the might of a king."

The messenger girl sat quietly, obediently waiting for her king to give her an order.

"What else?" he asked.

"King Arthur has taken a quick retaliation to the Bastard's threats to take his kingdom."

"That son of Uther Pendragon?"

"Yes, my King."

Gilgamesh scoffed and stretched his arms out across the side of the pool.

"It concerns me not how long he has claimed to rule lands that should be mine. Do his people love him?"

"Well, my King," said the girl, "it is hard to love one's ruler during wartime." The girl paused. "Actually, word has come forward from Britannia, sealed by the king's insignia himself."

"Well, listen to that," said Enkidu, swimming up next to the girl. "She's got quite some knowledge for a messenger girl, huh?"

Gilgamesh extended his hand to her. One of the guards left his post from the door and came over to the girl, took the sealed scroll from her, and handed it to the king. Gilgamesh broke the seal and read the message quietly to himself.

"Now what do the British mongrels even have that is worth me sending my own troops to take Williame by surprise and rescue their worthless kingdom?"

"Oh, do you not remember the legends, my old friend?" Enkidu laughed his high pitched laugh that had always reminded Gilgamesh of bells. "You who are so desperate to achieve immortality? Do you not remember the tails of Christ's last supper and the supposedly holy relic that he drank from?"

Gilgamesh in fact did remember. When the Jewish man who claimed to be the son of God had been executed for his blasphemy, his blood was said to have been drained into that very goblet and now that cup held the power to grant eternal youth.

Gilgamesh paused in his musings; the water went still around them. Only a small chuckle escaped his lips.

"Come here," he commanded the girl with a beckon of a finger, who obeyed immediately. She rose to her feet, only to kneel down once more at the king's side. With another flick of his wrist, the guards turned their backs to him at the door.

"Take off your clothes," he said to the girl. "I wish to celebrate."

The girl, who was made aware of her use in her king's presence, obediently slipped her dress off her shoulders. The airy fabric fell to the floor and tiny feet stepped over and inched closer to the edge of the pool.

"Aww, this one's shy," Enkidu murmured, humor in his voice. It looked as if he were stroking the girl's leg, but as a curse of Gilgamesh's remaining grief, he was simply an image that did not belong.

"More," Gilgamesh coaxed, reaching his hand to the girl. She took it and stepped into the large bath. Her king pulled her down and wordlessly set her down into the water and reveled in the gasp that caught in her throat as he slowly took her for his own.

"You can never get enough women in your life, can you?" said Enkidu, finally deciding to fade from the corner of his friend's eye.

**End Chapter 1**


	3. Chapter 2: Eve of Unease

_Southern Fields of Britannia_

The battlefield stunk of hot metal and festering wounds. It called to the carrion that cried back in hungering swarms that formed small shadows. They were only welcome to blot out the sun every once in a while.

"This is horrid," said a voice much too small and timid for a king, yet the words were spoken from beneath a crown. "This was no victory. It was a purposeless slaughter of my people."

The small king leaned on a massive sword for support as another knight approached.

"My King," he said. "Do not count the bodies. Count the victories."

"We were not victorious, Gawain. We survived. We merely survived. I am not so sure we will last another wave of either Williame's armies or the barbarians from the north without losing the sole reason we are defending Britannia."

"Your people?"

The king nodded.

"My people."

Gawain breathed a hefty sigh as he lifted his helm from his sweaty brow and tried to wipe it dry with the small piece of his tabard that was not caked with the blood of allies and enemies alike. It was all red anyway, causing his brow to turn an unpleasant crimson color.

"If you spend your life counting the men who have died in your name, you will never live long enough to celebrate what they have fought for in the first place."

The king thought on the knight's noble words, and made a decision to think on them some more later. For now, she had other matters to attend to.

* * *

_Fuyuki_

Arturia tugged on the sleeves of her pitch black suit. Irisviel had dressed her quite nicely, and having been summoned into this modern world with a plethora of knowledge relevant to this day and age, Arturia recognized the suit as a finely crafted one. She liked it. And it was endearing to see Irisviel enjoy herself around her. She did not seem to get out much, so when she had been informed that she could take her car out for a drive, she could hardly contain herself. Naturally, Arturia was sent along with her for protection, but she minded not. Irisviel was a charming young woman, gentle and kind. She never had an unnecessarily bad thing to say.

"A Mercedes-Benz 300SL Coup," Arturia rattled off instinctively. "A fine model."

For a moment, she was surprised at herself for having known this fact of no importance. Irisviel gave a light snort and unlocked her car. The satisfying click resonated in the garage.

"It's quite a beautiful thing, isn't it?" she said, her voice smooth and soft like a bell. She ran her fingers along the silver roof. Arturia nodded silently and climbed into the passenger seat. Irisviel had already climbed behind the wheel, but she did not start the engine. It was as if her thoughts had taken a 180 degree turn. There was no excited smile upon her pale lips; her ruby eyes dimmed from a sparkle to a shimmer. Her nearly white fingers ran absentmindedly around the cold leather of the steering wheel.

"Ms. Einzbern?" said Arturia, slightly tilting her head. "Something is troubling you."

Irisviel gave a faint smile.

"Heh, yes, but not for myself." She tapped the steering wheel with two fingers. "Saber, I am- concerned about you. That is why I requested to leave the grounds with you for a while."

Arturia raised an eyebrow, but then her face fell in realization. This was clearly about the night before when nearly all the Servants had gathered to battle.

"You are wondering about what Archer said."

"Very much so," said Irisviel. "It just confuses me. History says that a long time ago, so long ago that historians still debate whether or not you truly existed, William the Conqueror was attempting to take Britain shortly after the Romans pulled their forces out. If you are the nameless king that fought back William's forces, then I don't understand Archer's- or even Rider's reaction towards you.

"Moreover, if Rider really is Alexander the Great, or Iskander as he proclaimed, then there is no way he would know who you were. He was far too busy conquering the rest of the world. He never even bothered with your island country."

Arturia leaned forward, resting her face in her hands. Her head began to hurt.

"I am sorry, Irisviel," she said, her voice slightly muffled by her suede leather gloves. "But I only remember little pieces. I do remember Williame the Bastard however. I do remember him trying to take my people away from me. I must have triumphed over him because my death came from another."

Her voice fell to a quiet whisper. "I am just as perplexed as you are, Ms. Einzbern." With a heavy sigh, she sat back up. "Let us finish this discussion another day. I would like to see you enjoy yourself for a change. Let us go for a drive."

* * *

_Camelot_

"How long has it been since you sent the message to Uruk?"

Lancelot clenched the table where he sat. The rest of the knights sat quietly, well aware of the firestorm that was about to occur.

"A few weeks ago," said Arturia. "If we wait any longer and soak in our own pride, Williame's armies will tear through us." Arturia kept her head, even while Lancelot was about to lose his. "And you would do well to keep your wits about you, Lancelot, especially when we gather at the table."

The fiery knight bit his tongue and leaned back forcefully, waiting for anyone else to speak up. Surely Gawain would say something, maybe even Bedivere. He did not count on Gaheris or Gareth to say much, the newer knights that they were. And then there was Sir Agravain, the newest at the round table. He was a witty one, who only spoke when truly necessary and his words never failed to hold authority and wisdom. He was definitely sharp, and despite his short time at the Round Table, very trustworthy. Yet he also said nothing.

"I would not think I have to prompt my fellow knights to advise the king here that the decision he is making is clearly a foolish one."

"I must ask you, Lancelot," said Sir Agravain, leaning forward in his seat. "What makes you think this is such a foolish plan of action? His Majesty took initiative in times of war. That must certainly be better than nothing."

Arturia raised her eyebrow at Agravain, and then glanced back at Lancelot. He suddenly felt he was a minority in this regard. He took a moment to run his fingers through his long dark hair before drawing in a deep breath.

"I've heard many things about the king from whom _our_ king has sought help," he started. "Gilgamesh is arrogant, stubborn. He has very rarely ever aided those who come to him unless standing aside would result in the danger of his own kingdom. He is a selfish man with many wives and concubines."

"What he chooses to do in his bedchambers is irrelevant," Arturia added. "What he decides to do with his armies and wealth is another matter entirely."

"He does not do _anything_ with his riches, Majesty!" Lancelot placed his hands firmly on the table. "He hoards and hoards, storing the treasures he collects for himself."

"Would his armies increase our odds of victory?"

Lancelot faltered.

"Well- yes, but-"

"But nothing, Sir. If there is a chance I can prevent my people from dying at the hand of a French bastard, then I will take it."

"The-" Lancelot's hands tightened into fists on the table before returning his gaze to the king. "-the Arthur I once knew, when Excalibur had first been drawn from its stone prison, would never scrape his nose to the ground before a foreign king and beg him for help."

"Hold your tongue!" Arturia snapped, rising from her seat her face livid. As she did, the great wooden doors into the hall creaked open and the guard outside announced a visitor.

"Her Majesty, Queen Guinevere, your Highness."

Lancelot was the first to react of all the knights, immediately sliding to one knee and bracing his right hand into a tight fist over his heart. His dark hair fell in silken strands over his shoulders as he dipped his head to Guinevere as she passed him. The remaining knights moved from their seats to follow suit. Arturia did not kneel; she simply bowed her head and stepped out from behind the table.

"My Queen," she said lowly. "May I ask why you should intrude on our gathering?"

Guinevere stood there quietly. Then, she slowly looked around the room.

"I wish to speak with my husband in private about certain matters of our kingdom's welfare," she said, clear power in her voice. "I request His Majesty dismiss his knights for now. There will always be another day to gather."

Lancelot had stood up and watched the exchange between Guinevere and Arturia. His gaze instinctively fell on the queen, and he watched her lips as they uttered words in a voice to which he took a guilty pleasure in listening. Arturia gave a sigh and then dismissed the Knights from the Round Table.

"If anyone wishes to continue this discussion, I will come here later this evening," she said. Lancelot's attention was diverted as he noticed he was being watched. Sir Agravain glared at him, one eyebrow cocked, a light smirk on his face. Lancelot was the first out of the great hall.

* * *

_?_

_I am the shunned._

_ The mocked._

_ The despised._

_The world was nothing but a haze of red and black, blood and death, rage and helplessness. Trapped inside his own dark armor, Berserker screamed and flailed about, trying to break out, trying to break free of his hysterical prison. A painful amount of power burned in his veins. He cried tears of blood and gripped his dark hair until it remained but matted knots and dirty, violet, tendrils. The world was mad. The world was painful._

_ Berserker groaned._

_ I am the shunned_

_ The only shimmer of a companion he had was a broken man. A broken man riddled with worms that killed half of his body and left him less than the shell of a human. And yet this man still held compassion somewhere deep in his shriveling heart. _

_ Compassion for a young woman._

_ Her two daughters._

_ Her one daughter, neglected and lost to the broken man's family, lost to the same worms that defile him now._

_ Berserker roared._

_ I am the mocked_

_ His world was spiraling and violent, tormenting him with horrible noises, unattached to anything, to anyone. It was only after he allowed the madness a peek into his heart that he started to recognize the voices, the screams._

_ A beautiful woman, with scarlet hair and dark eyes that held power over those around her. A woman who sacrificed a great for the good of her people, giving up one of the greatest pleasure the world has to offer to marry a facade. A fake. A wise and noble fake. But a fake nonetheless._

_ Berserker cried._

_ I am the despised._

_ I am despised._

_ The despicable._

_ I am despair._

**_End Chapter 2_**


	4. Chapter 3: Gloom of Encounters

_Fuyuki_

"Irisviel, stop the car!" Arturia screamed abruptly.

She and Arturia had been driving down a long winding highway that from afar, overlooked Fuyuki. The tires screeched shrilly against the asphalt and the headlights illuminated the hunched figure of a strangely cloaked man in the middle of the road.

"Irisviel," said Arturia. "Get out of the car, and stay very close to me." She narrowed her eyes at the man, his bulging eyes staring bizarrely at her through the window; she felt defiled just meeting his gaze. "This presence...it's a Servant."

As soon as they left the safety of their vehicle the Servant wheezed in a deep and enthusiastic breath before crying out with his hands extended to Arturia.

"I have come for you, my sweet and holy virgin!"

Irisviel blinked and glanced at Arturia.

"Do you know this man?" she asked before the pause got too long.

"I have never laid eyes on him."

The man frowned, the dramatic features in his face contorting in ways that made Arturia's stomach curl.

"Oh no!" he cried. "Are you saying that you've forgotten my face?!"

"Oh for the love of all that is holy," Arturia mumbled. "Another man who claims to know me." She then shouted louder at him, "I've never met you in my life. You mistake me for another!"

"Aaah," he sighed despairingly, placing a hand on his heart. "It is me! Gille de Rai, my darling!"

_Well he is clearly French_, Arturia thought with a hint of abhorrence, and that did nothing to quell the unease she felt before him.

"I have prayed for your resurrection and have been waiting for a miracle to reunite us!" he continued. "To that end, I have come all this way, to the end of time, my _Jeanne_!"

As if there were a spark in a circuit board, something sharp and electric pierced Arturia's mind. Something hacked deep into her memories, drawing for a word, and with that one word, unlocked a deluge of others. They flew at her so fast they sent her to her knees with a gasp of cold air.

"Saber!" cried Irisviel, falling to her knees next to her. "Saber, what's wrong? Do you know this name? What's wrong?"

She clenched her head at the temples, pulling locks free of the ponytail, turning her hair into tangles as she clawed for relief.

"I-ah!" she tried to muscle out even one sentence. "I know not-errgh- your name, I as-assure you." She gave Irisviel a desperate look. "Nor have I any idea of who-agh- I don't know who this Jeanne is!"

"No... No!" Gilles de Rais continued to cry out in hysterics. "My dear, no! You are fighting your former identity! You can't have forgotten! Do not fight it, my Holy Virgin, no!"

"Enough!"

Arturia willed herself into her armor, a flash of light enveloping her and Irisviel and sending Gilles back a few steps back. But this took more strength from her than she had, and before she could summon Excalibur, she collapsed in the middle of the road.

"Saber?" Irisviel shook the unconscious king. "Saber, wake up! Saber!"

* * *

_Arabian Desert, just outside Uruk_

Uruk was hot and dry. Those were the only things on which Arturia could focus. She had never seen such a clear sky as far as each horizon reached. The worn down path was the only way to differentiate between the right way and the vast desert on the side of the travelers. Arturia had taken very few with her: Lancelot, Bedivere, Gawain, and a few attendants to keep track of their precious supplies. Additionally, through Arturia's old friendship with him, Merlin had sent one of his higher apprentices to accompany them and keep the horses they rode enchanted with never-waning strength and speed. The wizard insured that the length of the trip would be halved, and he was right. The rigorous ride made the journey into the desert lands a little under a fortnight.

The horses had finally been disenchanted as not to drain their very life in exchange for the mana Merlin's apprenticed had assigned them. The hot sun beat down on everyone, and they had to resort to wrapping spare garments around their head to keep from burning.

As soon as Lancelot came up to ride next to Arturia, she knew this would not be a pleasant conversation.

"You know," Lancelot started. "We will have to take another route back to Britannia. Riding through the French territories was enough of a risk."

"Not if we bring an army with us," said Arturia, staring straight forward at the city. It had appeared to rise out of the sand; she hoped it was not another trick of the desert air.

"Of course, my king, but-"

"Do you think me a fool, Lancelot?" snapped finally snapped at him. "My ears have grown weary of your repetitive griping." She took a moment to breathe in the hot air and compose herself. "I am fully aware of the risks I take by traveling in this manner: My life, my comrades-" Her voice dropped for a brief moment. "-and my identity." Lancelot shifted uncomfortably. "But my people are dying at the hands of a man who thinks he can simply cross the waters and take our land from us." She stared down her most trusted friend remain unmoved. "If this is about the Bastard burning that girl at the stake for freeing her people, I would hardly tie it to my circumstances."

"She was your age," said Lancelot.

"And she was burned for witchcraft."

"Not true. Although that is the claim, Jeanne D'Arc was burned because she gave herself the appearance of a man while leading the rebellion. They simply added witchcraft to her charge of blasphemy because she claimed to have heard God order her to free her people."

"Her life and death is irrelevant."

"But yours is not, _My King." _Lancelot sounded more desperate than ever, but Arturia paid no heed and rode on ahead.

* * *

_Fuyuki, Tohsaka Mansion_

"Apparently, there are those in this world other than myself with an abundance of time on their hands," said Gilgamesh, a lazy tone to his low voice. He spoke casually to Kirei Kotomine while he lounged on a lavish leather couch, various empty wine bottles strewn about the floor. Yet the king showed no signs of intoxication. Kirei did not bother guessing why.

"I've been meaning to ask," said Kirei. "But what is your connection to Saber?"

Gilgamesh opened his eyes, a flash of red appeared for a split second, and was then gone as quickly as it came.

"Why must you know?" he asked.

"Because I must have read what tablets remained of your epic over a dozen times. Nowhere does it mention a woman, apart from your 'junior wives.'"

Gilgamesh smirked and closed his eyes again.

"So none of these 'tablets' ever mention a queen, do they?"

"No, none that are still intact at least."

"Then my secret is safe." A sly grin appeared on his face. "Besides, few are worthy to know the truth of my relationship with that woman." He paused, the smile fading. "It seems that she does not even remember the truth."

Kirei watched Gilgamesh's face change ever so subtly. He wondered what the king thought about when he was not busy flattering his ego.

"Master, my apologies," a dark figure faded into existence before Kirei and Gilgamesh; it was Assassin. "But I have more news about Caster that I thought you should hear."

"You mean _other_ than the rampant kidnapping of children?" said Kirei, his voice monotone as always. "One of you already told me this."

Gilgamesh watched the exchange between the Master and Servant. It was the first time he had seen a different member of the Assassin clan appear before Kirei, even though he had heard of this strange ability. The Servant summoned had been a multitude of Heroic Spirits gathered into one. Perhaps this was their Noble Phantasm.

"No sir," said Assassin. "It is something else."

"Well what is it?"

"It would seem that Caster, but not through the influence of his Master," she began, "has taken a very strong interest in the Saber Servant tonight."

Gilgamesh abruptly sat up onto the couch and dropped the bottle of wine he had been holding. This sudden action caught both Kirei and Assassin off guard. They glanced at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Caster?" he said. "Yet another mongrel has drawn his dirty gaze to Saber? Where is he? How powerful is he? I wish to know, now!"

"Please settle down, Archer," said Kirei. "I'm sure she was just about to tell us that."

"Right now, they are on Road 16," Assassin continued. "And I know not of the power he possesses, but as I watched the exchange between he and Saber, he merely called her a name-'Jeanne' and she collapsed."

The words had hardly left Assassin's mouth when Gilgamesh leaped up, and with a quick flash of gold, he donned his armor and disintegrated in a rush of gold mist.

"Uh-" Assassin murmured. "Master...may I ask what just happened?"

"You might want to inform Tohsaka what happened to his Servant," said Kirei, looking unamused. "He might want to know where his mighty King of Heroes is going."

* * *

_Uruk_

The ride through the city was unlike anything Arturia had ever experienced. The streets were packed with people. There were wagons parked on the side with goods tumbling out of them: Fruits, nuts, fish and cuts of cattle. Other stands held exotic looking jewelry and another held clothing that bore the brightest colors Arturia had ever seen. Bedivere had been stopped by a small boy selling flowers. Unfortunately, they had not the currency of this land to do any business with the _very_ friendly merchants who never seemed to stop coming. Gawain ended up bartering a jewel from his sword for a large skin of water, but no one else paid much heed to the swarm of people below their horses.

They finally reached the palace and were greeted by a group of guards.

"Which one of you is, King Arthur."

Arturia stepped down from her horse.

"I am," she said, her voice cautious. The guards asked her to show her insignia ring to prove her identity, comparing it with the wax seal on the scroll she'd sent nearly a month before.

"You will leave your weapons here," said the guard; he seemed significantly more ornamented than the other two who stood on either side of him. "And you may only take one other man with you to into the presence of the King."

The high guard explained all of this to them while they walked down a maze of corridors until they reached a great wooden door, decorated with more gold that Arturia had ever seen in her life.

"But you may not take _that_ man with you," the guard pointed to Merlin's apprentice. "He radiates of sorcery."

Arutia frowned and then nodded at her men. They proceeded to disarm themselves.

"If I am only permitted one companion, must all my men part with their swords?" asked Arturia.

"If the wish to remain outside the palace for the remainder of their stay, then no. They may keep their blades."

Arturia heard Lancelot sigh the loudest as he audibly smacked his sword, Arondight, onto the stone slab with Gawain's blades and Bedivere's bow.

"Be still, Lancelot," Arturia said calmly as she turned to place Excalibur on the table. "You will come in with me, friend. I trust you will know your place."

Lancelot's frown did not fade. It was apparent that he would fight this until the very end. And he had also been oddly bitter with Arturia for now allowing Guinevere to accompany them.

"Very well," he said curtly. The rest of the knights were escorted to their temporary quarters. Arturia hoped that they would be fed soon.

Finally the doors opened for them to meet the king of Babylon, the _hero_ of Babylon, Gilgamesh.

The throne room was, again, unlike anything the two of them had ever seen. The ceiling was higher than any at Camelot, with marble pillars every twenty paces or so. The walls were crawling with lush vines, and wherever there were not vines, there was gold, gold vases with the largest flowers Arturia had ever laid eyes on, with brighter colors than she could have imagined. And at the end of the great hall, lounging on a largely cushioned gold chair, sat a tall man with gleaming bright hair that matched the gold jewelry that adorned him. He seemed preoccupied with the lion that lazed next to the throne. Gilgamesh ran his long fingers through the creature's mane, smiling as a low purr came through the creature's mouth.

"My King," said the high guard, still standing outside the great hall. "I present before you, Arthur Pendragon of Britannia, and Sir Lancelot of the Round Table."

He closed the doors behind him and the only guards that remained were the six that were placed on both sides of Gilgamesh at the back of the room.

As according to protocol, she and Lancelot went down onto one knee to acknowledge Gilgamesh as a king of his land. As the two bowed their heads in respect, Arturia heard a small mocking chuckle echo through the hall.

"What a sad excuse for a bow before your king," said Gilgamesh. "Just stand up."

"You are not my king," Lancelot snapped as they rose to their feet. "My king stands before you now, King of Britannia, Arthur Pendragon, stronghold of Camelot and-"

"You would do well to silence your dog, Arthur," said Gilgamesh. He suddenly narrowed his eyes towards Arturia, tilting his head ever so slightly. Stepping down from his throne; he got closer and closer to them with every word, "This is my kingdom, and I will say... and do...whatever I please."

He reached Arturia and then, without so much of any warning or glint of the eye, he reached forward and grasped Arturia hard between her legs.

"Ayee!" Arturia gave a high-pitched yelp and reflexively pushed away from her assaulter. A knowing smile flashed across Gilgamesh's face. As soon as the initial shock wore off, Lancelot lunged forward to defend his king, only to be blocked by the lion that viciously leaped forward with a ferocious growl. It's yellow fangs were sharp and glinted in the light.

"How dare you!" Lancelot boomed over the lion's roar. "You befouled, heathen tyrant!"

"Lancelot, stop!" Arturia gasped, her eyes locked onto Gilgamesh's. The gleaming king finally released her and she stumbled back and hurriedly checked the front of her robes that were now bunched up between her thighs. She smoothed them down and regained her composure.

"In the name of God and the glory of Mother Mary," she breathed harshly through her teeth. "How dare you-"

"Don't flatter yourself, _girl_," Gilgamesh said bluntly. "I was just checking."

Arturia's eyes widened as panic set in. Her gaze immediately darted to the half-a-dozen guards that stood next to the throne. Her secret had suddenly been dismantled and defiled by this arrogant tyrant in one movement. How had he seen through her guise?

Panic turned into anger.

"You violate me and then reveal my greatest secret before the ears of those I know not," she spat. "I have a kingdom to uphold and-"

"-to lie to?" said Gilgamesh, relaxing back into his chair; the lion followed him back loyally. "I can order my guards to fall on their swords right now and they will do so without question. Your precious little lie will continue to remain unknown, well, to everyone but myself."

"You would just put your knights to the sword without a second thought?" said Arturia, her voice in disbelief and shock.

"Knights?" Gilgamesh laughed. "Girl, these men are no knights. They are replaceable. I have an army of them waiting to die for me."

"Madness," was all Arturia could get out.

"Power," Gilgamesh countered.

The hall was silent for a moment, although it felt like an agonizing eternity.

"Or, if you grow faint at the sight of blood," Gilgamesh teased. "I could wait until you have left and then order them to fall. I can show you the bodies later." He leaned to the side. "Or if your delicate heart could not _bear_ the thought of those men dying for your secret, I'll have their tongue's cut out. They are all illiterate so they couldn't write it down for anyone." His grin made her stomach churn. "Well, _girl_?"

Arturia clenched her fists. Ultimately, Lancelot stepped forward and asked that they fall on their swords and Gilgamesh ordered them to do so. Arturia looked away as they ended their own lives one by one. How could he do this to his people? To those loyal to him?

"My king," Lancelot said quietly. "You may not agree with their customs, but things are clearly done differently here than they are back home."

"Are you satisfied?" asked Gilgamesh, his eyes gleaming bright red.

"No," she said.

"Well, your secret is safe with me."

"I wouldn't call that safe," Lancelot added.

"You would do well to muzzle your dog like I suggested," said Gilgamesh, not taking his lewd gaze off Arturia. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I will command my men the way I see fit." He leaned into his hand and took a revitalizing breath. "I do not feel that the environment for this discussion is entirely appropriate," he said. "I will not agree to anything unless I speak privately with you." His gaze shifted from Arturia to Lancelot. "Without your dog."

Arturia placed her hand in front of Lancelot as she sensed him shift suddenly.

"Very well," she agreed. "We will speak among each other's company, but I trust you to be appropriate."

She really didn't.


	5. Chapter 4: Diffidence of the Heart

_?_

_ Clouded visions created a painful mist that filled Arturia's head. Even dead, it still hurt. At least, she thought she was dead. She assumed. Perhaps she had experienced what the modern medical world called an 'aneurism'. Could Heroic Spirits experience health problems not caused by the proper application of a weapon?_

_ Thinking about this was the only thing that kept Arturia afloat on the black waters. As the waves washed over her ears, she could hear voices under the water, clearer than she could hear them though the air. It was strange, and yet familiar. She was being tossed in a hurricane but she could not move, scream. She could do nothing but hope her body stayed afloat. She felt cold and naked. Her armor was gone, her clothes were gone. The King of Knights as adrift and exposed in this black sea of cloudy memories and heartache._

_ Occasionally, a memory would appear to comfort her, as if she were in the eye of the storm. She remembered her younger days as a squire, days before she drew Excalibur from the stone. She saw her greatest friend and ally, Lancelot. A youthful smile stretched across his flawless face. Arturia thought she heard the giggle of village girls but she did not see them. They had always been infatuated with the Knight of the Lake. She and Lancelot would go riding, even after the days of her coronation, and even after the day Lancelot had discovered his friend was just a little more different than he had expected._

_ But just as Arturia was starting to enjoy the bittersweet memories, the storm would sweep her away and a wave would plunge her further into the black waters, where the angry screams and miserable sobs filled her water logged ears._

_ "Savor it well, my king. Taste the blood on your hands." _

_ "I have given _everything_ for your noble facade, and you repay me with apathy."_

_ "Now you know how many tears we have shed for your transient glory, how we have annihilated ourselves, wasted our days, and sat in emptiness waiting for old age."_

_ "Arturia, please, I have to go."_

_ "I'm so sorry."_

_ "Had I not been a loyal subject, but hated you as a human ... Perhaps, I could have saved that woman!"_

_ Saved that woman._

_ Saved that man._

_ Saved by that man._

_ Saved by-_

_The pitch waters forced their way into Arturia's throat and she drowned in black hatred and sorrow. Another memory splashed its way against her eyes, far from her previous recollections that cradled her in a comforting calm eye of the storm. No, now she was clearly wounded; she wondered which point in her history this was, for it was blurry and she could not find the strength to move. A armored protector stood in front of her, his back upright, his golden greaves clanking together as he stood his ground. Arturia lay in the arms of an unseen companion, shaking her, begging her to rise. And the sun- it was so bright- no. There was the moon, and a company of stars above her. And yet there were ripples of blinding amber light everywhere, laced with silver lines emerging forth with such a force that it shook the ground. Were they shooting stars? Was the very sky falling from above. Arturia desperately tried to raise her sword, yet found her fingers would not yield to her will. Then, her protector spoke-_

_"You cursed worm dare to even wish your gaze upon this treasure should mean your demise, and now you demand I hand her to you willingly." The man's armor sounded of bells when he shifted his weight. "Your utter destruction will bring me little satisfaction unless every droplet of blood, every splinter of bone, every fiber of your pathetic soul is wiped from existence!"  
"No, do not keep me from my Jeanne! Gaaaaah!"_

___The man's voice grew loud and violent, and the golden light shone brighter and harsher. The_ barrage of silver stars collided with the ground out of the corner of Arturia's eyes, what little she could see. Clouds of earth rose from the air. The waves and winds of the storm still whirled in Arturia's ears even while this memory filled her eyes. The man who had previously been facing away now turned. His face was obscured from her vision as he spoke to the one who held her.

_"You are the one who commands my greatest treasure?"_

_"Well-" A small voice breathed as softly as a breeze, so softly, Arturia barely heard it. "I- I provide Saber-with the mana necessary to maintain her existence and fight in this world-" She sounded scared. "Why did you do that for us? Who are you?"_

_The armored man scoffed._

_"You mongrels still know nothing of my grandeur. Figures."  
_

_The one who held Arturia began to tremble._

_"If you are going to kill us, just do it! I'll have none of your arrogant banter if you mean to trod on me as if I were the scum of the earth."_

_The man hummed._

_"While that may be true, I have no intention of ending your pathetic life. I came here for a reason, and I intend to see it to the end. Hand her to me."_

_"What?"  
A spark of lightning struck Arturia, sending her further into the waters. And this time, she did not surface for a long time._

"Saber, please wake up!" A soft bell-like voice spoke through the storm. "Kiritsugu, can you use a Command Seal to wake her?"

"I don't know."

Arturia's eyes flew open with a green flash and she jolted up with a violent gasp.

"Eep!" Irisviel cried out. "Saber, you're hurting me!"

Arturia realized she had dug her nails into Irisviel's arms and immediately pulled back, taking in huge gulps of cold air. She was- back in the mansion? She gratefully noted that she was was clothed, wore her armor, and was dry. And all was quiet apart from her staggered, shallow breathing.

"Calm down," said Kiritsugu. "You're fine now."

"What happened?" Arturia demanded. "What happened to me?"

Irisviel exchanged looks with her husband before taking a deep breath.

"You collapsed on the road after expending all of your mana to transform into your armor," she said.

"But-" Arturia did not understand. "How could that happen? You were right there; you could have provided me with more easily."

"Whatever Caster did to you," said Kiritsugu, "it resulted in your spirit being unable to replenish mana and ultimately rejected Irie's supply."

Arturia's eyes widened in horror. Her body just flat out rejected mana?

"I've never heard of a Caster class Servant being able to do that," her master continued.

"I don't believe he did," said Irisviel. "He was just as perplexed as I was. He kept calling you, Jeanne." Arturia flinched, but the pains did not resume. "No doubt he was referring to you as Joan of Arc, and if he were Gille de Rais, then that gives us an advantage. We know who he is, his history, and what he could be capable of." She frowned. "But it still does not explain how you collapsed like you did."

Arturia was unable to even begin to comprehend what kind of night Irisviel must have gone through. She cursed herself for abandoning her like that, but then a thought occurred to her.

"Wait," she said. "If I just lost consciousness, and Caster was clearly there for me in one way or another-" She met Irisviel's ruby gaze. "How did you get out of there alive? How did you escape?"

She looked up at Kiritsugu who shook his head. There then came an unattached voice from behind her on the other side of the room,

"Because I was not about to allow that monstrous creature ravage my lioness."

Arturia's jaw dropped, refusing to believe what she was hearing; "No..."

She slowly contorted herself from where she lay on the couch to see, standing in the corner-

Still clad in his shining armor, his earrings rung a little as he turned, and his smile caused a shiver to run down her spine.

"Hello Arturia."

* * *

_Uruk_

Arturia had not allowed anyone, not even Lancelot, to see her in what she wore now. Since the king of this land had insisted, she could do little more than spitefully comply.

She rarely saw her own reflection; once in a bucket of water when she was a child, another time when she first gazed upon Excalibur when it was still in the stone, and now, in the strange "mirror" that stared back at her.

Now, she looked completely alien; she did not know the woman looking at her. She was clearly a woman, adorned with a dress so light that she hardly felt it, save for where it hung by a gold ring around her neck, and hugged her waist with a thin leather belt.

She had been given an assortment of gold jewelry to decorate her pale Celtic skin, but she had politely denied them, leaving them to shimmer gracefully in the late afternoon sun that peaked through the silk curtains of her room. This was the most exposed she ever felt. Never had she dressed as a girl until now.

The door to her chambers cracked open and Arturia whipped around, clutching the sharpest object near her- a hair pin. There stood a small boy at the door. He could not have been more than twelve.

"I am here to take you to the king, sir," he said, clutching the door frame.

Sir? Arturia's eyebrows furrowed. Was the child blind? Could he not see the small breasts under the thin fabric? The gown? Arturia approached the boy, peering at him cautiously. He stared straight forward. It was only after she got close that she saw his clouded eyes.

He was, indeed, blind.

"Uh- yes," said Arturia, taking a moment to regain her composure. "Take me to him."

Despite the boy's handicap, he managed to weave his way down every corridor and hall with ease. Arturia was impressed, not only with the boy's ability, but with her host's effort to respect her secret among his people. That did not mean, however, that she turned a blind eye to the possible hidden agenda. That, she did consider. They passed no one in the halls, and the guards that were posted at the king's quarters had their backs turned with helmets that blinded their vision.

The great doors opened without a creak, well oiled, well tended to. They only made one sound, the quiet drum of them closing behind Arturia, leaving her in a place that left her just breathless.

She was not in a bed chamber, which she half expected, or a council hall. The orange evening light tinted the green that surrounded her. A light warm breeze fluttered the leaves and the flowers, and they whispered through Arturia's hair that had been let down for once, brushing her shoulders like tiny curtains.

The garden stretched further than she could see. Only a few pieces of furniture were set among the abundant flora.

"Ohh..." The breath left her lips like water through a spring, unkempt but gentle. She was so mesmerized that it took a moment for her small fantasy to be shattered.

The familiar low chuckle came from her right. She had not even noticed him there, lounging on a lavish couch, a cup of wine in one hand, the waist of a beautiful girl in the other. Arturia blinked a few times, unable to clear her head of the intoxicating scent of the flowers. She was about to protest in fear of the girl seeing who she was, but then she noticed that the girl was blindfolded, blindfolded and giggling in anticipation. Then Arturia was about to protest for an entirely different reason.

"Jiadi loves this sort of play," said Gilgamesh, reaching up to give a light tug on the ornate scarf that covered the girl's eyes. "It can be quite fun to- play with the senses, cut them off or make them sharper." He leaned in and kissed Jiadi's neck, causing her to shiver and grin. "It does wonders in bed."

Arturia had looked away out of sheer instinct and chivalry for the poor girl's honor. She only heard a short exchange between Gilgamesh and the- concubine? Wife? At any rate, Jiadi was escorted out, still blindfolded, by the small boy from before. The silence stiffened Arturia's bones after only she and the king remained. It felt awkward to her, unbearably so. She had never been alone with a man in this manner, and the foreign sensations made her increasingly uncomfortable.

"Quite useful to have a girl with- unusual tastes," said Gilgamesh. "You never know when a secret will walk in on you."

"You summoned me, sir," Arturia said with as much composure as she could muster. "You clearly knew I would arrive. It was no surprise."

"I like to show off." Gilgamesh raised his wine with a confident gesture to his surroundings. "And this is the most private area in all of the palace. You should thank me for putting this much consideration into preserving your little lie, girl."

"If you would stop referring to me as a girl, I will gladly thank you."

"Show gratitude, and I will stop calling you that."

Arturia bit her tongue, for she would have rather tasted the blood that welled in her cheeks than show this arrogant tyrant any gratitude, which would then leave an ashen sensation in her mouth.

"I am grateful for the lengths you went to to respect and preserve my secret." She swallowed the blood that pooled behind her tongue. "Your efforts have not gone unnoticed."

"There!" Gilgamesh bounced up from his lounge. "Now what would you like me to call you?"

"Arthur."

Gilgamesh frowned, and then gave a sly grin, setting down his cup.

"That's not your name, _girl_."

"I said-"

"Arthur is not your name, so I will not call you that." He crossed his arms. "It doesn't befit a beautiful girl like you."

"I am not a girl!"

"How old are you?"

This caught Arturia off guard. She saw his reasoning, but it still angered her.

"You may call me Arturia," she said, not bothering to answer his previous question. "And you wanted to speak with me in private. We are in private, and I even humored your request to dress like this." She gestured timidly to herself. "Now speak, the sun is almost gone."

Gilgamesh slowly approached Arturia.

"I work best in the moonlight," he said with the same sly grin he wore before. His long robe hung off one shoulder, embroidered with red, and on any exposed limb hung a gold bracelet or necklace. Heavy gold earrings swung back and forth as he walked closer. Arturia swallowed another cheek full of blood and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop the bleeding.

"I came here to seek help for my people, to gain forces to ward off a man who thinks my kingdom is his to take." She stood her ground and did not even waver at the king's fiery gaze. "So I must ask you: Are you mature enough to negotiate with another king or have I wasted my time here?"

The sudden look on Gilgamesh's face empowered her. She would not let this man belittle her for anything else.

"No woman has ever spoken to me as you have, Arturia." His look of shock faded into one of amusement. "You have an entertaining fire in you. Come, let's walk."

He spoke no more of Arturia's appearance or her sex, though she did occasionally catch him tracing his gaze up and down her figure. The two of them walked through the garden at a leisurely pace, discussing primarily what Arturia needed for her armies. Gilgamesh then conveyed what he could offer.

"Well of course my troops could contribute the fighting skill of properly trained soldiers, and they can be provided with their own rations and commanding officers. I can donate rations for your men as well."

"That is awfully generous to provide for more men than you command."

"You clearly don't know the definition of an army, Arturia. Your men will hardly make a dent in my reserves."

"Have you ever aided any warring countries before?"

"Rarely, but only because my kingdom would have been the next to be attacked. It always has something to do with religion."

"Do you not have a god?" asked Arturia.

"The last deity to cross my path had the only man I would have ever considered my friend and equal killed because I defied her pursuit of me. I have not any desire to converse with any more gods for as long as I live."

Arturia glanced up at the king. His eyes had dulled just a little as he seemed to stare at something, not the flowers or the view of the city. It was as if he gazed upon something that was not there. His lips pressed into a tight, tense line. Arturia sense that this pain was still fresh and chose not to speak, as it was not her place.

"I am sure you are wondering why I would even think twice about aiding your small, insignificant island-country, especially when Willaime would not dare trod into my land. I have nothing to lose from this western feud."

"I am prepared to do anything," Arturia said without missing a beat. "You are the last hope for me and my people, and I will, if need be, die trying to repay you."

Gilgamesh halted suddenly, leaving Arturia to walk a few steps more before turning back to him. He bore a look of disbelief, almost anger.

"What?" said Arturia.

"You would give up your life, a life that your title claims you above all others-"

"I claim no such thing."

"You do if you declare yourself king."

"I am king because I was deemed worthy by a divine right. That does _not_ make me greater than any man who serves me."

Gilgamesh crossed his arms again and narrowed his eyes. Arturia's face felt hot under the man's unwavering gaze.

"So," said Gilgamesh, "you would be willing to do anything, _anything_ to ensure Britannia survives and thrives." He paused, eyebrows furrowed. "Even die?"

"For my people, I would gladly draw my last breath."

A heavy silence fell between the two kings. Nothing but the breeze and birds made a noise.

"Well, thank your gods, Arturia." Gilgamesh grinned. "I would never think of taking a life as entertaining as yours."

Arturia blinked.

"Entertaining?"

"You are, without doubt, the fiercest woman I have ever encountered. I am surrounded by obedient servant girls and concubines all day, most of them untouched and oh so innocent- well until they came before me."

Something unsettling stirred in the pit of Arturia's stomach, but she was not about to question the man's moral compass now. That was for another day, if ever.

"What is it that you desire?" she asked. The smile that spread across Gilgamesh's face made her heart drop with sick anticipation.

"You look as if I'm about to demand your virtue." Gilgamesh scoffed. "You can wipe that charming blush from your cheeks, Arturia. That's not what I want."

"Then-"

"Your land is said to hold the resting place of the relic I desire. A one Holy Grail."

Arturia was surprised at this, but it did not catch her completely off guard.

"It is said so, but we have not found it."

"But you were looking for it before the Bastard decided he wanted your island. I can disperse that army of his and you can continue your holy quest. But I want the Grail."

"Then it is yours."

Gilgamesh was prepared to be immediately rejected, so as he had begun to form an argument, or invoke his charm. His mouth hung open with unspoken words stuck in his throat. The noise he made as a resort was odd, almost amusing.

"Wait, really?"

Arturia nodded.

"What use is a holy relic to my people when they are starving and dying at the blades of my enemies? Religion is not for the dead."

Gilgamesh closed his mouth and nodded, saying nothing. He was impressed.

"For a girl, you bear quite a burden," he said. "How do you carry it all on your own?"

"I just do." Arturia's voice was resolved and calm, and yet she held power in her stance. "Are you satisfied? Will you assist me?"

"I believe I will," said Gilgamesh. "Very well. We can go over logistics tomorrow." He turned back to the entrance to the gardens. "Shall you share a drink with me?"

Arturia considered saying no, but after all the hospitality she had already been shown, she nodded and followed him back to the sitting area.

* * *

**A/N:** I felt like being nice and posting this chapter a little sooner than I usually update. Hope you enjoyed 3


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